


Whore Me Out

by halfsweet



Series: Twisted Love AU [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Choking, Facials, Jealousy, M/M, Rough Sex, Subspace, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 03:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: What Patrick wants, he gets. And in this case, he wants Brendon's attention.





	Whore Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> so i was supposed to write ~~the third version of~~ part 13 but sdfghjkl @blackandwhitebrendon made me do this
> 
> inspired by a tweet and FMLYHM by Seether 
> 
> (same universe as Fetish, so im just gonna turn this into a series)

He licks his lips, his eyes boring challengingly to the dark-haired man currently glaring down at him. His plan is working, though. He got Brendon _furious,_ and that’s what he wants. That’s what Brendon deserves for not paying attention to him.

“I like him.” Patrick smirks, just on the dark side as Brendon’s face grows red with silent rage. He leans up on his elbows--Brendon had previously shoved him to the bed, all rough and possessive and he _loves_ every second of it--and flicks the hair out of his eyes. “I like it when his hands were on me. I bet he can make me come with just his fingers.”

Then, he lowers his voice, eyes glinting in the darkness. “I bet he fucks better than you.”

Brendon’s hand is around his throat, squeezing and shoving him back on the bed before he can even blink. “Say that again?”

His smirk becomes wider, darker, and he bites his lower lip teasingly. “He’d fuck me better than you ever will.”

“Like the whore that you are?”

He clicks his tongue, undeterred by the pressure Brendon puts on his throat. There’s going to be rings of bruises around his throat later, and he can’t wait to watch them bloom into a dark hue. He’s going to wear them proudly around the house; a testament that Brendon loves and cares for him enough to get jealous. For now, he’s going to keep pushing his buttons until Brendon snaps. “I felt it when we were dancing--”

Brendon’s grip tightens. “You mean when you two were dry-fucking?”

He ignores the remark and continues, putting on a disinterested look on his face. Inside, his heart is already racing with anticipation. He’s close. Brendon’s close to losing it, he can tell. “--and he was _big._ Bigger than--”

He chokes on his words as Brendon completely cuts off his airflow, and his hands fly to Brendon’s wrist. Brendon’s eyes have gone completely dark, his jaw tightened and his muscles flexing with every movement.

“Finish that sentence.” Brendon growls, low and deep. “I dare you.”

Black spots have begun to dance in his vision. He tugs on Brendon’s wrist, nails scratching at the skin, but Brendon doesn’t loosen his hold. He grips harder instead, and Patrick lets out a choking sound and squeezes his eyes shut, euphoria flooding his veins. _Just one more push._ “Bigger than you.”

He gulps in as much air as he can, coughing and wheezing when Brendon finally lets go, but the sweet feeling doesn’t last long. Brendon’s tugging at his clothes, stripping them all off until he lies naked on the bed, flushed and dick hard.

Before he can guess what happens next, Brendon rolls him on his stomach and rakes his nails deep down his back, and he arches under him. There’s going to be blood for sure, but god, _God, yes._ He gasps when Brendon shoves in two slicked fingers inside him, not waiting for him to adjust.

It hurts, it _burns,_ but it’s so _good._ Brendon doesn’t use as much lube as he usually does, but _fuck_ does it feel perfect. He wants to move his hips, to draw his fingers in even further to get to _that_ spot, but Brendon is pinning him down, rendering him immobile.

Brendon’s knee presses into the back of his calf, keeping his leg still, while his other hand grasps him by the back of his head, making sure he can’t turn his head even a millimeter.

Face practically shoved into the pillow, his lungs are starting to burn from the lack of oxygen and the pressure of being pressed down. He twists his body to get some oxygen into his lungs, but Brendon tugs at the root of his hair, shoving him back in place, and he groans.

“Shut up.” Brendon hisses, pulling his fingers out completely. “I don’t even want to fucking _hear_ your voice.”

It only makes him moan, though, because how can he resist when Brendon’s like this? When all of Brendon’s attention is on him and _only him?_

His fingers scrabble for purchase when Brendon pushes into him in one motion. Brendon hasn’t stretched him enough, and just like his fingers, he also doesn’t use much lube, but the pleasure outweighs the pain, especially when he’s already feeling light-headed from not being able to breathe properly.

“God, you’re such a _slut--”_

His chest bubbles with laughter as Brendon starts to thrust, fast and brutal. The lack of air is starting to get to him, and he feels himself floating away with nothing but pleasure and _yesyesyes, harderfastermore._

“--always need your hole filled--”

Colourful patterns dance behind his eyelids, and he laughs, breathless and faint. It’s so beautiful, so good, so perfect. _Brendon’s so perfect._

“Why do I even waste my time with you?”

Because he loves him.

“Can’t believe I’m in love with a slut like you.”

He doesn’t even realize when he comes; everything feels so light and airy and he’s in bliss, because _yes._ Brendon loves him. Brendon loves him.

_Brendon loves him._

He lays there, unmoving and a blissed out expression on his face as he lets Brendon use him. He doesn’t care about the discomfort in his lower back. He doesn’t care that Brendon’s grabbing, seizing him until he can feel his fingers dig into his bones. He doesn’t care that Brendon’s turning him over on his back and clutching at his hair until his head lifts up. In fact, he doesn’t even care that Brendon pulls out and comes all over his face while forcing his head in place.

Because Brendon loves him.

With his limbs heavy, he can’t even bring himself to move his head or his fingers. He’s even too tired to open his eyes, but he opens his mouth still, licking at every drop of come he can reach with his tongue.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that again.” Brendon pulls on his hair again with a growl before shoving him back and getting off the bed.

Even though he’s pleasantly sore and bruised in all places, he giggles to himself. He will only stop as long as Brendon pays attention to him.

If Brendon doesn’t, then well, he’s going to make sure he does.


End file.
